


The Compendium of Steter

by Serendipintea



Series: Female Stiles Stilinski [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Always Female Stiles Stilinski, Angst, Confessions, F/M, Female Stiles Stilinski, Gore, Love, Multi, Rain, Steter - Freeform, The Steter Network Monthly Prompts, Violence, angst without happy ending, chap 3 warnin, kissin in the rain
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:35:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21835288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serendipintea/pseuds/Serendipintea
Summary: This is just a secondary place for past Steter Prompts that I published on my Tumblr!
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Female Stiles Stilinski [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1539316
Comments: 8
Kudos: 121
Collections: Steter, Steter Prompts, The Steter Network





	1. Be Still Their Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Prompt was Demons!
> 
> Gore, major character death (no one anyone cares about), with a touch of horror and a splash of fluff to tie it all together in a pretty bow of adorableness. Enjoy!
> 
> Mature Themes Ahead

It was very likely that she was not conventionally ‘sane’, or so Peter Hale - an investigator for the California Supernatural Investigation Unit - surmised. He’d seen a lot of ‘insane’ suspects in his years but never one quite like this. She was small, almost pixie-like - though they had checked and rechecked the DNA pulled from her and found no traces of Fae  _ or _ Supernatural DNA - and got along easily enough with the other detectives and scientists on his team. 

That, truly, had been the first clue that she wasn’t exactly sane. She seemed put together,  _ too _ put together for someone they found knee-high in a literal silo of human corpses. 

_ ‘Dad was a Sheriff, _ ’ she explained with an enticing gleam to her whiskey amber eyes,  _ ‘kind of got used to death when I was too young to form any other opinion on it. _ ’ he guessed she was talking about the death of her mother, another case that was sitting on his desk back at the office. It  _ reeked _ of Supernatural interference and a hasty cover up, and if this clever girl - and  _ oh _ , she was clever, there was no mistaking that - had figured that much out too it would make sense to have been the final, driving chip into her splintering sanity. 

No one started out as ‘insane’, he sure hadn’t, despite his sisters - Talia Hale, current Director of the California Branch of the SI - firm beliefs of the opposite. Still, she’d been completely honest and compliant throughout the majority of the process, another indication that she was either uncaring of the outcome or firmly sound in her decisions that she didn’t think she’d be caught. Peter never once questioned if she had killed those people, a tally of which he’d yet to receive on just  _ how many _ had been killed, despite the wavering doubts of some of his team. 

“Hale,” he answered his phone before sliding his Bluetooth in. 

“It’s Erica, sir.” ah, his favorite science nerd turned to muscle. “We’ve gotten the official tally on the body count, as well as the background check we ran on our suspect.” she never beat around the bush and dropped potential suspects with her Kanima venom quicker than they could fire a gun or shift. He never regretted turning her, despite her questionable fight with her inner traumas, and because he hadn’t - because that bond was pure enough - she existed on a very rare, very  _ fine _ line between Kanima and Werewolf, a hybrid with brains as well as brawn. She was  _ easily _ his favorite. 

“Go ahead,” she always waited to see if he were in a position to hear the specific information too, something he greatly appreciated. Most of the others on his team rarely took a second to care if he were in the company of others and would blurt out details over the phone. 

“Twenty four have been identified as various missing persons through California, all of different ethnicities, ages, and genders. The only thing they have in common is that they used to be Emissaries for various packs that are no longer active.” so she was killing emissaries? Why, and how come their departments hadn’t been made aware that many emissaries were missing?

“You said used to,” he mused, pulling into the parking lot. “I assume you mean that as  _ before _ their deaths, and not after.” 

“Yes sir. We’re still looking into the packs but so far eight out of the twenty-four never existed. Two of the associated addresses were county Police departments, one was a Walmart, and another belonged to the home of a Druid with protection wards that made  _ my _ skin itch.” ouch indeed. 

“I enjoy a good bet so I’m going to go out on a limb and say that the two that registered the police station as the Pack Center were mutilated heavily.” it would be an emotional reaction, afterall, a crime of passion, and yet another link connected her to the case. 

“Yes sir, we had to run dentals on both. We’re suspecting that the four other bodies that were strung up on the sides of the Silo were also using police headquarters as a pack center, it would give us a pattern.” 

“Any insight on why our perp decided to make a pond of carcasses?” a thoughtful hum on her end and a loud PA for Boyd - her fiance and the other muscle on his team. 

“We thought Preta at first, they’re more East Asia oriented though.”

“Why Preta and why did cast it aside?” his shoulders dropped just slightly once he started down the familiar hall to his office. 

“Preta’s are beings of insatiable hunger,” she began, “mainly for something humiliating and/or unconventional. Cadavers, Feces, infection, you name it. It would’ve explained the body pile up and the literal pond of bodily fluids but no remaining tissue was found in her stomach or in her teeth. Most of the bodies were too decomposed to see if any organs had been taken out or for a legitimate cause of death to be ruled. Some were mutilated, some had their eyes and hearts gauged out, others had their heads twisted all the way around until they were decapitated.” and  _ that _ required a strength that their current suspect didn’t  _ seem _ to have. 

“Any word back on her DNA check?” another sigh, this one just a tad more honest than the last. Erica, despite her being his favorite, didn’t suspect the young woman anymore than the rest of his team did - though Whittemore was on his side, strangely enough. 

“Yes, very faint traces of witch DNA, too few to grant her access to magic but just enough that she can see the resulting aura’s of the supernatural.” not uncommon in this day and age either, almost everyone had some traces of supernatural DNA, if they didn’t they were either part of the old Hunter clans or the Purists families. “Her background check confirmed her story as well. Mother died when she was six, Father was KIA when she was fourteen. Stanford graduate with a Bachelors in Physiology, then a Major in Mythology and Supernatural societies from Berkley.” 

“What information have you gathered about the father?” a slight pause on her end followed by shuffled papers. It gave him enough time to get his keys in the door before she absolutely floored him with her next words. 

“Jeorek Stilinski, former Sheriff of Beacon County. They caught his murderer but the name was stricken from the records.” a few clever taps onto her keyboard - no doubt overriding the clearance by using  _ his _ \- and then sucked in a sharp breath. “His murderer was Theo Raeken.” 

He broke his key off in his office door and stared at it for a solid minute. Theo Raeken was a notorious serial killer with a body count in the upper  _ fifties _ , he had been six at the time of his first murder - his sister, she had been pushed, spine broken and-

And her heart had been gauged out. 

“Erica, pull up the file on Theo Raeken.” Theo Raeken who had been found strung up, split in two, with his eyes and heart gouged out. He barely heard her faint ‘got it’ before he twisted his doorknob and broke the lock, forcibly opening the damned thing. “Are there any schools listed under any of his aliases, I want colleges - community or otherwise.” 

“He had a year of being an undecided major at Beacon Hills community under his alias Theodore Cander,” a pause followed by a muttered curse, “two months before his death he attended the Supernatural societies course at Berkeley.” that connection, the one class they shared and the fact that he had killed her father was what had him in front of her cell not even seven hours later. 

“You look tired, Detective,” he rose a perfect brow at her otherwise well-rested appearance. No conscience and no worry for her current predicament - even more boxes checked against her innocence. “Though I’m not opposed to the eye candy you are in a tux and your confidence in it I’ve gotta ask, what brings you to visit me?” she batted her eyelashes and put her palm flat against her chin, posing. “Have I caught your heart?” 

“You killed Theo Raeken,” he expected her to trip up, freeze, or even show  _ some _ hint that he was right in her gaze, her scent, her  _ heartbeat _ . 

“I did? Wish I could’ve cherished it, he killed my dad after all.” she shrugged and plopped down on the floor of her cell, staring expectantly at him through the glass wall separating them. “How’d you draw that conclusion.” 

“Quite a few of your victims had their hearts and eyes gauged out, the same way Theo Raeken was killed.” he really shouldn’t find a suspect so intriguing and yet he did. She put herself literally below him - something that either indicated she didn’t see him or the situation as a threat - she was complacent and honest - to a point, certainly - but didn’t seem remorseful of the deaths she caused. She didn’t seem righteous or angry either, so that particular complex was thrown out the window. 

  
“I like your gut instincts,” she praised, moonglow skin looking particularly ethereal under the fluorescent glow of the overhead lights. “So you think, what, that I killed Theo Raeken, got a taste for it, went on a murder spree, and -?” she motioned with both palms up at her situation, “lead you to the bodies so you could catch me?” he hated and adored how careful she was with what she said. Always hypotheticals, always vague answers or clever half-truths. It’d been a long time since he had an actual challenge and this twenty-something young woman was proving the most enticing one yet. 

“I think you got bored,”  _ that _ caused a warm glow to ignite behind her amber eyes, glossing them up attractively. “I think,” he began again, tamping down the desire to impress the darkness in her that called so temptingly to the darkness in him that he’d buried so long ago. “that you were trying to be normal, and then you saw Theo in your Supernatural Societies class in Berkeley, recognized him, and gave up on being normal for vengeance.” the smile that was curling at the edges of her lips made his blood sing, “After him you finished your degrees and sat out to get rid of people just like him. Not other serial killers, but people who were false to society while endangering others. It’s why they’re all former Emissaries to non-existent packs, and why those that used police stations for pack centers were strung up. They were a message,” 

“What’d they say?” her scent remained amused, her tone was husky and borderline wanton. 

“That they didn’t deserve any kind of afterlife, that they deserved to exist in agony.” maybe he said that with just a bit too much conviction, a little too much understanding, because the moment the words left his mouth her scent bled a sliver of arousal that smelled like sandalwood. He couldn’t very well use that as a sign of her guilt when his own arousal had begun to answer back, he was just in control enough to not let it. 

“An interesting assessment,” her words were slow as her scent slowly righted once again, “one which I’m sure the killer would agree with.” 

“The killer, not-” before he could finish Erica was opening the door at the end of the hall and practically sprinting to him. Suspect forgotten in the face of Erica’s worry, something that hadn’t shown since-

“The Argent’s are here, Talia signed her release to them due to lack of convincing evidence.” he gave a singular glance backward, caught the vicious curl of her lips, and began marching down the hallway with his cellphone in hand. 

“Talia, I need you to negate that transfer-” his sister sighed heavily on the other end, patronizing even without words. 

“Peter, you’ve no concrete evidence that this very  _ human  _ girl has killed twenty-four Emissaries, most of which were bigger than her. There’s no suspected partner, and she’s been compliant with all our tests and questions. While I do not  _ like _ Gerard nor do I trust the Argents it is now in their jurisdiction to clean everything up.” he glared darkly at the wall of the lab and pressed his thumb and pointer to the bridge of his nose.

“Talia, she’s guilty. I  _ know _ she’s guilty, and she’s not  _ just _ human she’s-” a pause, then a snort of derision from his sister over the line. 

  
“Exactly, you’ve no evidence for any of these accusations. My decision is final,” before he could question why the North American East Region head hunter Gerard Argent was here to pick up someone so plain and banal she hung up, ending their discussion. 

“Why  _ do _ you think she’s guilty,” Isaac - his lead interrogator - asked, cherubic features pinched in confusion.

“You’re questioning my judgment too?” he raised his hands in mock surrender, drawing another irritated sigh from Peter. “I know she’s guilty because my gut tells me she is.” 

“Okay,” the relent was not what he had expected, he was so used to everyone - read sister, boss (also sister), her emissary, and a good portion of his family for the last couple years - second-guessing him or questioning him. “You’re a self-serving, sarcastic jackass most of the time,” his alarm must’ve shown because now Isaac was explaining, “you also have a terrible - if it costs me my life then why bother? Mentality, but whenever you tell us to follow a lead because it’s your gut instinct we always find a connection.” 

“Sarcastic, self-serving jackass?” Erica clapped him roughly on his shoulder with a burst of laughter. 

“The sassiest, kind of makes what she said a little more confusing. I’ll be waiting? Thought it meant she’d be waiting to be found innocent, makes things a little confusing.” that joy, that relief, it was all short-lived when they watched the Argent’s wheel - yes, wheel, because they apparently saw fit to have her in a straight jacket with a muzzle, tied to a wheelchair, with her ankles chained together - their suspect down the ramp into the back of their armored vehicle. It, as well as the fact that Gerard Argent himself got into the same van with her, told Peter all he needed to know. 

They knew her, they knew what she was, and they knew she was guilty. More than that they had specifically wanted her, but  _ why _ ?

“Talia, you’re not listening!” his shout shut his sister up, even if she did flash her alpha reds at him in annoyance. “You don’t restrain a  _ human _ like that unless they’re not human!” 

“As much as I hate it, Alpha Hale, Peter may be on to something.” Lydia Martin, head of the forensics department of their building, groused. “I only met her twice. The first time to gather the DNA samples she had death coating her like a second skin. I thought it was just because she had been in that vat,” a shiver of disgust, “but just now, when I sedated her for the transfer, it was  _ still _ there.” she tapped perfectly manicured blood-red nails against her throat and grimaced. “I’ve had a scream itching at the back of my throat all day but it’s slowly getting worse.” a glare his way followed by a softer smile to Talia - who was finally looking like she may have regretted her choice. “I’m a Banshee, I predict death, but I’m smart too, Alpha Hale.” She bowed her head slightly and cleared her throat. “There’s something off about her, if you don’t trust my intuition then trust my word as a Banshee.” 

“The tests came back negative of supernatural-” Talia began, shoulders slumping just so. 

“There are ways to fake them,” Lydia cut in, “But it could also be that whatever she is isn’t yet  _ registered _ .” hazel green eyes narrowed on Peter, “Just like we had to do with Reyes, her hybridization was rare and hadn’t yet been recorded. Her DNA analysis came back regular with no known secondary strain. Since we have we’ve registered only two other Kanima Hybrids. Whatever Stilinski is we don’t have it registered, meaning she’s either rare-” she trailed off, head tilting to the side. 

  
“Or it’s not a DNA thing.” now both of them were looking at him, “Derek’s serial killer girlfriend, the one Deucalion had to put down, what was she again?” anger flashed across his sister expression before it was quickly replaced with horror. 

“A demon,” she cursed and sat back down to put her head in her hands. “She was a Demon.” With a sigh she picked up her phone and dialed the one number he knew she really hated to call. 

“Alpha Hale,” Deucalion greeted, tone pleased. “To what do I owe this rare honor?”

“The Jennifer Blake, the Demon you put down, how did you know she was a Demon?” he hummed in thought before he, too, put her on speaker. 

“Because I could see her aura, back when I was blind.” when he had his eyes impaled by Gerard Argent’s arrows, he means. “I assume you’ve run into yet another one, is it yet another inspiring lover for the young Derek?”

“No. Can they pass DNA tests as human?” a deep sigh followed by a brief call for Kali - his head researcher. 

“Demons are human, essentially. They’re born, but a Demon is born in the human when an absolute corruption of their soul happens. It’s harder than stories and television makes it seem and it has to be completely willing on the human's end. They don’t die, they don’t become emotionally mute or psychotic, but they do have the abilities of whatever level Demon they become.” 

“It’s not a possession? What do you mean by the  _ level _ of the demon, and how do you  _ know _ all this?” a condescending chuckle in the background had Peter’s hackles rising. He didn’t like his sister at times, but she was his sister and only he could badmouth her to her face. 

“No, it’s like - ugh, human terms. It’s like when a Caterpillar forms a chrysalis and turns into a butterfly. It’s still the caterpillar, but it has a different name and a different form, only now it can fly. Same thing with Demons, they’re still  _ mortal _ , but now they have extra abilities. So far only four Demons have been registered by our team. A level one is a basic grunt, they seem to come to the weaker willed ones, basic added strength but low intellect. Level two seem to frequently appear from average prey. They have the strength of a beta wolf and can see auras, they know at a glance whether you’re human or not and what kind of supernatural you are. Level three’s are not so common but not rare, they can tap into magic use and pass as a witch or Druid, have the strength and speed of a Beta wolf, but they’re highly susceptible to Iron. Level fours are… difficult. They have a strength that rivals an Alpha and all the abilities of a Darach. They don’t need any sacrifices but they hunt,” a pause then an ascending grunt from Deucalion. “We captured one who called themselves the Huntsmen, they’re the ones who take other damned souls. They don’t hunt other Demons but they will fight with them regularly. They don’t have a social structure or pack sense but they are loyal to a singular partner. The one we had wouldn’t talk until we threatened his mother, so it seems the partner can be platonic.” 

Okay, well she hadn’t expressed any abilities so he could almost rule out a level four except…

Except something about her still struck him. She wasn’t of basic intellect and she definitely was not average prey. If she had been able to see Auras then she would’ve reacted to seeing Erica for the first time, she hadn’t. ‘ _ But they hunt, _ ’ Kali had said, they hunt and they take other damned souls, souls like Emissaries who weren’t but were reaping the rewards. 

“Kali,” he was very aware that his sister was back to glaring at him, “The souls they take, what do they do with them?” the pleased rumble over the line made the predator inside him curl up in joy. 

“They burn them, apparently only a few of the damned souls make the cut to be an actual demon.” a pause, “You have a Demon you’re hunting, don’t you? I told Duke we had to go back to California when Theo Raeken showed up dead, but we were busy.” 

“Why do you say that?” there had been nothing - aside from the grisly remains of his corpse left behind - that signified supernatural occurrence. 

“Because it’s the first Demon on Demon killing I’ve ever seen, whatever predator you’re hunting is going to be a challenge.” she sounded wistful and wanting. It was no secret that Deucalion’s pack, who he made into his entire mobile branch of the SI, was of the brutal sort. Every one of his pack were fighters and THEN they were geniuses. Ennis, the main muscle, was also a former surgeon. Kali, his fiance, had a black belt in nine different martial arts with a masters in forensics and criminology - she was also a tad insane. Deucalion had been formerly blind, yet even then he retained his fighting capabilities and had extended the knowledge of werewolf senses tenfold. He, currently, had too many degrees to ever need worry about what he would do for the rest of his life - though he need not worry, as he currently was filthy rich thanks to proper investments. The twins could combine into a giant, invincible fucking werewolf and were currently getting their Doctorates. If  _ they _ were saying that level fours could be difficult then perhaps he should bring Erica along when he followed the Argent Convoy. 

“-ause,” his sister had clearly asked how they knew it was Demon on Demon murder. “Xander, our level four we’ve got under quarantine, has been searching for the demon responsible for his death. The Demons were born at the same time, Raeken’s was stronger ‘cause of all his murders and yet this little fledgling Demon manages to kill him like  _ that _ . I’d applaud the one responsible before gauging their-” anything else was cut off by an ashen Scott McCall, Talia’s secretary. 

“Ma’am, it’s the Argent convoy, it’s been attacked.” 

“What?!” she barked, angry and panicked - no doubt because Peter had been right. He’d rejoice and rub it in her face if his wolf weren’t currently prowling under his skin. 

  
“You had the Demon and let it go,” Deucalion mused from the phone, “do you need our assistance, Alpha Hale?”

“No.” Peter snapped, glaring at his sister. “You didn’t listen to me before, listen to me now.” his wolf, something he’d been so out of tune from, something that had been a part of him and then  _ muted _ by his sister, was making itself known for some reason and it had all started with  _ her _ . He needed to know why, he needed to catch her. 

“No, Alpha Blackwood, thank you for your information.” by the time the phone was hung up Scott already had a GPS signal blinking away on a map, almost as if it were waving. 

“Play the recording,” thank god for Peter’s suspicious ass for insisting that they record every Tip - anonymous or not - that was sent into their building. 

_ ‘My name is Mieczysława Angelika Stilinski, but you can call me Stiles. It wasn’t very nice to sign me away, Talia, but thank you for the opportunity regardless. Gerard Argent met a gruesome, slow death that I took great pleasure in. His convoy is also dead, well, except for three of them. By now you have most likely called Deucalion and got the whole shebang about Demons, so you’ll know that these three were spared ‘cause they were pure. Good on them too, surrounded by so many dickbags.’ _ the clink of metal cufflinks told them all that she had gotten rid of the shackles around her legs.  _ ‘I’m using one of their cell phones so you can pinpoint it and come save them.’ _ a muffled, female grunt followed by a slight pop,  _ ‘Nice wallpaper by the way, don’t worry I’m patient.’ _ a chuckle and then the line went dead. Peter wasn’t listening to whatever his sister had to say, too focused on trying to figure out what she had meant by that last line. 

‘Nice wallpaper by the way, I’m patient?’ she was definitely a level four then, he’d known of a single Darach to be able to teleport. I’m patient,  _ ‘I’ll be waiting’ _ , Erica had said. She would be waiting for… him? Why, more importantly _where_ -

_ ‘Nice wallpaper, _ ’ oh she was  _ not _ ballsy enough to go to his house. She had sent that message for him, she wanted him to come to her and had set it up so they’d be alone. She could’ve collected his damned soul the first time she saw him, despite that something told him that she didn’t  _ want _ to kill him. He wanted his own answers too. 

Such as why his wolf responded so savagely to wanting to be near her when Talia had nearly disconnected the connection between them after he went on a revenge killing spree on a purist family that had nearly burned Cora alive. She spent a year in a medically induced coma so her body could heal itself and Talia,  _ her mother _ , had told him to calm down. Did Stiles know something about that night, did she know something about him that Talia might’ve made him forget? 

No, no he couldn’t be questioning his sister right now, not with a Demon present. 

So why wouldn’t the thought leave his mind until he was staring at his front door?

“You can come in, I promise I’ll only bite if you ask me too!~” she singsonged from inside his home, proving his thoughts true. He just wasn’t expecting to see her with a frilly bright orange apron on while moving around his kitchen, making some kind of delicious smelling stir fry. Even more was the fact that  _ the _ Kate Argent sat at the head of his table, glaring heatedly at Stiles’s back, struggling against barbed wire that wrapped completely around her, tying her to the chair. “I brought you a present,” Stiles cooed, “Do you like it?” 

“Love it,” he replied immediately, confusion and agitation rising even as his wolf preened under his skin. “Why?”

“Because you don’t remember, I had to be sure that you didn’t and weren’t just yanking my chain.” she moved the pan off the heat and stepped directly in front of him, watching with warm amber eyes as he struggled with what he wanted to do. Crush her, kind of, against him or against the floor? He wasn’t sure. “Talia took from you,” her hand reached out to brush her fingertips against his breast pocket, the resounding slap of his hand encasing her wrist drowned out both their shocked gasps. 

Her skin lit him like fire, though not literally, it made every muscle up to his shoulder clench in heady anticipation. It felt familiar though he’d never touched her before. Talia took from him, how would she know? 

“Peter,” his gaze snapped to her eyes and watched in fascinated horror as her iris swirled like the milky way before the once amber was now cloudy white. “ _ remember.’ _

And he did, god he did, and how he  _ burned _ . Talia had taken his memories, his wolf, she had fabricated his very  _ nature _ . He was  _ not _ a nine to five guy, he was vengeful, protective, and by god he was hedonistic. What’s more is that this beautiful, bloodthirsty little thing had been  _ his _ , just as he had been hers, they had hunted and slaughtered and enjoyed the finer things in life  _ together _ . 

“Cora wasn’t almost killed by purists,” he mumbled, calloused fingers brushing ever so gently against her mole and freckle dotted cheek. “She had been killed by  _ you _ .” and then beta blues were blazing as they centered on Kate Argent. “I had killed all of your little accomplices and then my sister,” it was said as a curse, “My sister made me forget so she wouldn’t have to go to war with your family.” he couldn’t help the way his shoulders sagged in relief as her nimble fingers work to undo his tie and the first two buttons of his shirt. “She sent you to them,” he murmured, unknowing of when his arm wrapped around her waist to draw her near and uncaring because she was plastered against his side with a pliant hand resting over his heart. “knowing who you were.”

“No, your wolf protected me from his alpha.” more preening. That darkness that had rested at the back of his mind, the sudden connection of his wolf after near  _ three years of silence _ -

Three years. She had waited three years for him. “You knew me, even when you didn’t.” he was able to profile her so easily because he  _ had _ known her. “She would’ve killed me if she had known,” rough fingertips brushed over his cheekbones and his slicked-back hair, ruffling it just so. “You care about your family and you finally have that bond with them,” her thick brows furrowed, milky white bleeding back to expose the sad amber hues. “If you want to forget again, forget everything-”

He silenced her with a sound kiss, devouring the whimper she gave before she melded her body against his. He had forgotten what kissing her felt like, the fire that she was, the raw  _ yearning _ she evoked with him. It had been that way since she came across him killing Kate’s henchmen and offered to join, wolf howling  _ mate _ \- then he had  _ her _ screaming it all night. They’d been together a week - a single, blissful week of not having to hide their natures, of  _ belonging _ \- and in that week he found she was his true mate and he was her soul bonded, the one she’d be loyal to no matter what -  _ out of choice _ . 

“This gift,” he breathed, uncaring for their current witness to their heated makeout. “Marks our new beginning.” his relationships with his team had been built on lies, his relationship with his sister was fabricated, none of them would want him how he was - and he honestly didn’t want them. “Care to go to war with the Argents with me, darling?” Her smile was absolutely savage and spoke to his wolf on levels the moment he saw her gleaming teeth. 

It took twenty-four hours, sixteen missed calls and nearly thirty unanswered texts before Talia went to her brothers listed address, fearing the worst. Whatever she had imagined did not prepare her for the reality of the situation. Kate Argent hung from an empty living room with gauges in her throat, stripes of skin under her fingernails, and the bottom half of her body in the fireplace, charred beyond recognition. 

_ ‘JUST IN, ALPHA TALIA HALE OF HALE PACK WILL BE STEPPING DOWN AS DIRECTION OF THE CALIFORNIA SUPERNATURAL INVESTIGATION UNIT PENDING INVESTIGATIONS OF FRAUD, EMBEZZLEMENT, AND NEEDLESS ENDANGERMENT. NEXT UP; NEW SERIAL KILLERS ON THE LOOSE?! STAY TUNED FOR INFORMATION ON THE DEATHS OF OVER A DOZEN HUNTER’S ASSOCIATION HUNTERS AND HOW THE HUNTER’S ASSOCIATION ITSELF IS  _ **_IMPROVING_ ** _ WITH THE LOSS! THIS IS AMELIA GADES WITH YOUR CNN NEWS,’ _


	2. Bind Me - Yours Eternal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Prompt was Demons! Peter or Stiles could be the demon - of any variation - and was the Novemeber prompt!
> 
> Gore, Nudity, mature themes. Fluff, kind of slow burn with a pre-established relationship - yeah that's confusing.

Peter Hale, one of the last three descendants of the former Hale pack in North America, was a suspicious and manipulative man. He survived being burned alive in his home when eighteen others did not, he had enacted the revenge killings of those that had been responsible, and then he had survived being set aflame again. Then he had his throat slashed by his nephew in the middle of a spar session, been shot multiple times by Hunters coming after him, and then the literal disembowelment from Berserkers. As a Werewolf he was able to heal through almost all of this with little to no scar, no evidence to the trials and tribulations he’s faced, but it was because he had been through so much that he was so suspicious and untrusting of the general populous, human or not.

His family had burned because his nephew had been tricked and the pack emissary did not have strong enough wordings of their territory. He had been killed again because his beta had been tricked into thinking that, by killing the alpha that had bitten you, you could reverse the transformation. His nephew had slashed his throat while training because he thought, childishly so, that he deserved the Alpha spark instead of his ‘murdering psychotic uncle’. His Emissary, similarly, failed to have the proper wardings or abilities needed for something so powerful as the Hale Spark, and so the Berserkers had gotten passed the wardings once more and made wine of his insides. 

Needless to say Peter rarely ever trusted anyone, let alone anyone that would be in his pack or be his pack Emissary. Especially the pack emissary, it was why he had found himself searching through supernatural lore and texts as to how he could bind another life to his - just as insurance, at the very least. It took him a year before he found anything of note, it was a year well spent for the information he discovered. 

Not only could he bind a life to his, but he could summon a being of power that would fit the Emissary role he needed as well as have influence over how his pack functioned. It took him a week to get the desired materials and another to wait for the blood moon. The ritual went perfect, like most of everything Peter did, but nature was cruel to Peter and rarely ever gave him a break. 

“A demon,” he blanched, staring at the pitch-black eyes that stared at him from the twig of a female in front of him. “the figurehead of humanity for my pack,” could one kill Fate? He’d try, by the gods he would try because this was cruel, it was too much. Had he truly not suffered enough to have not even a single break? Sure he wasn’t a good man - and he had plenty of deaths shrouding him, but what did he truly do to deserve this? “Is a demon.” 

“Buddy, no offense, but between the two of us I’ve got more humanity than you.” his eyes narrowed dangerously, ignoring the way its voice was just a tad husky in its attempts to stifle its amusement. “It’s chill though, I’m not the average demon. So, what’d you summoned me for? You did the ritual so you know about the whole ‘equivalent exchange’ bullshit.” a demon with a mouth, maybe it wouldn’t be truly terrible. 

“Our lives are tied until your service to me is complete,” the corner of its peach pink lips curled into a smirk. 

“Till death do us part,” the smirk dropped into a frown, “you’re pretty famous in Hell chief, don’t suppose you remember your time in Hell?” he shook his head in answer, “damn, well okay. Anyway, you need an Emissary and, while that normally goes against a Demon’s very nature I’m not a normal Demon.” 

“You’ve said that twice,” she didn’t look like much, no horns or tail, no red skin tone - in fact, she was actually quite pale with moles dotting her moonglow skin like constellations - and she - not it anymore as she was most definitely feminine, naked as she was - was at least half his width with maybe an inch on him height-wise. “So what kind of Demon are you?” 

“In a long, boring history lesson that holds no true amusement, I’m a Prince.” he eyed her very feminine breasts with a raised brow. “Like I said a, long, boring history lesson. If you ever remember your time in Hell you’ll remember it.” now both brows were raised. “Whatever, want me as your Emissary or should I take your soul again?” 

Peter Hale was a suspicious man, he rarely trusted anyone, but this summoned being whom he bound his life to was - legitimately - his last option. She would protect his life with hers, and her abilities would protect his pack, for however long her nature allowed her to because that is what he summoned her for. If she weren’t able to meet at least one of those criteria then she wouldn’t have been able to answer the summons. He truly only had one option. 

“I accept.” The summoning rune burned into the ground and filled the air with the scent of brimstone and - strangely enough - sandalwood. When the rune was completely gone the black bled from her sclera, exposing the creamy-white and looking a tad odd with the pitch of her iris until it, too, bled away and revealed gold. Not a whiskey amber, not a wheat brown, not even beta gold - though hers was just a tad lighter - but true, heated gold eyes. “Do I have to name you?” 

“What, like a puppy? Fuck off, my name is Stiles.” his brow rose yet again and he worked to temper his anger at the partial lie. “Look, names are power, Peter. If someone were to know a Demon or a Prince’s true name they would hold complete power over them. I’ll tell you it someday, if you’re a good boy.” ah, dog jokes, how tasteless. 

“Well then, come with me. I’ll have to get you a wardrobe and identification.” he expected her to want Goth clothing or all black or, or something that insisted what her true nature was. Instead, she wanted worse. 

“Plaid?  _ Plaid _ ?! I think not you tasteless creature!” oh he was getting nasty looks from the other customers, “I relented on the monstrosity of a cell phone, I relented on the scentless soaps and shampoos, I even relented on the goddamned  _ gaming consoles, I will not relent for plaid. _ ” when the walked out of the store it was with three plaid button-ups, two overalls, and then six different bags of appropriate clothing befitting the role of the Hale pack Emissary. 

Stiles, of course, wore the plaid and overalls first with a triumphant grin and mischief twinkling in her gold eyes, daring him to say anything. She had a healthy appetite he approved of, at least, and more often than not would cook meals for him - she was all too happy to spend his money (and in truth he was all too happy to let her when it evoked a strange, content feeling in him and his wolf) and often made changes to his suite that he begrudgingly approved of. 

It took a single month before his pack - a whopping nine people - had situated themselves in Beacon Hills California and finally got to be introduced to the new Emissary. 

Peter Hale was a suspicious man, he rarely trusted anyone, but watching her as she surveyed each of his pack before sitting them down made him think that maybe, just maybe he could trust his life to her, and not just because of their pact. 

“Alright, Education time kiddos.” Peter was able to hide his amusement from her but not from the other werewolves in his pack. “What’s the role of a pack Emissary?” 

“To be our humanity,” a blonde haired blue eyed muscled up American boy answered with an eye roll.

“Wrong,” all sets of eyes shot immediately to her then, “Over time the role has been so convoluted that people actually believe it. One person is responsible for a whole pack’s humanity? What, do I spray you with a bottle labeled ‘Humanity’ when you’re being a bad boy?” he didn’t have to see her face to see the very predator like grin that stretched across her lips, didn’t have to know her as he did to know that she would have the very thing by the end of the day. “No, the role of Emissary is to help in the union between your primary and secondary species.” she crossed her arms and leaned back against the island of his open floor kitchen, staring at each of his pack thoughtfully. 

“You,” Erica rose a challenging brow in retaliation to her call out, “What are your species?”

“Human, Kanima, Werewolf.” her sandalwood and vanilla scent spiked with rain at her interest. 

“Badass, then you’re a Kanima/Werewolf hybrid. What harmonizes all three of your beings?” Erica Reyes had been bitten and turned by his nephew while Peter had still been dead, and then she had been abandoned when her transformation did not turn out complete. It was Peter when he returned from the dead who had found the genuine connection she had with Vernon Boyd - her now mate - that helped her synergize her wolf and the Kanima inside her. “Close your eyes,” Stiles ordered, softer in tone when Erica’s features remained pinched in confusion. “Start with beliefs, what do you believe so strongly that you can feel the power in your soul hum to?” 

“I believe,” she started after a moment or two passed, frustration waning just slightly, “that the family you're born into is not the one you have to stick with, that you can choose your real family.” 

“Good,” god but her tone was soft and it made his knees weak with the affection pouring out of Stiles - affection from a demon. “Now think of people, pick two, at least two and do the same.” 

“My mate,” Vernon Boyd, the muscled statue of a man to her right squeezed her hand affectionately. “and my Alpha.” Peter was not preening, he was  _ not _ , not from his favorite telling him that he was what helped keep her in balance. “They both showed me that I was enough, that I could be a badass without being a monster.” Then, softer, “and that I could kill without being damned.” 

“Good,” Stiles nodded, “a lot of people mistake killing as a sin.” a perfectly groomed eyebrow rose on the cherry haired goddess standing beside the couch. “Need convincing? Okay. You’re being raped and you kill your rapist. Are you going to Hell for taking the life or Heaven because it was in self-defense? Were you righteous in your killing because it was a piece of shit soul or must you repent and pray for forgiveness? Don’t like that scenario, pops is beating your mother within an inch of her life and you hit him over the head with a lamp, a frying pan, whatever. He dies and you’re only seven or eight, are you going to Hell? Will you be forgiven?” she rolled her eyes and waved her hand. “Killing is situational, you can kill to survive and still not go to Hell.” 

“What about the rapist or the dad?” Malia Hale, Peter’s estranged daughter, perked from her position on the floor. 

“Oh, the rapist is definitely going to Hell. The Dad is situational too, despite a lot of controversies.” she waved her hand again as if to clear the air and smiled at Malia. “What are your species?” 

“Human, Werewolf, Coyote!” her energy was adorable, her naivety brought a strange warmth to Stiles’s scent that reminded him far too much of simpler times when he was younger. “I spent ten years as a Coyote so I’m still learning human things.” 

“Ah, but it’s because of your time as a Coyote that your human side will be strong. Coyote’s naturally fear humans and larger prey, so you’ll always be cautious. Most humans are too trusting, and your werewolf will bridge the gap of inclusion and pack sense that your Coyote lacks and will help harmonize your human.” If his daughter had a tail it would be slamming against the ground in pleasure, “Do you still have trouble with your shifts?” 

“Yes,” a short nod from Stiles. 

“Am I right in assuming that you don’t shift to your coyote regularly anymore?” a confused nod, “Okay, next full moon is in about a week?” she looked over to Peter as he nodded. “Alright, Malia, a night before the full moon you and I are going to go on a hunt.” two sets of alarmed gazes set upon her then, “There’s a forest nearby with plenty of large prey. You cutting off your Coyote so suddenly will make it restless, it’s not used to the human, nor is the human to the Coyote.” 

“What if I can’t shift back?” he hated how small her voice got when she was uncertain. No daughter of his - though he only knew of her as his daughter for the past year - should be so unconfident in herself. 

“You will.” maybe it was the certainty in Stiles’s voice that drew reluctant agreement from Malia, or maybe it was the sole fact that she had an unwavering belief in her as the Emissary that had convinced her. Maybe it was both, whatever it was, Peter truly appreciated it. He found himself relaxing little by little as she went down the line of his betas until, at least, she got to Lydia Martin - a Banshee that was, reluctantly, a part of his pack - and Scott McCall - his Beta who had a hand in one of his deaths. 

“Neither one of you like what you are, whatever you are.” a deep sigh, then a rolled wrist, indicating they go ahead and tell her their species as everyone else had. 

“Human, Reluctant Banshee.”

“What, no seriously? You’re a Banshee and you hate it?” another perfectly manicured eyebrow raised in question. “Okay, put it this way, you’re not the spectral banshee who eats frontal lobes, you’re part human, so you have it so much easier than most. Let me guess, it’s morbid how you can tell when someone’s about to die?” a short, agitated nod. “Have you done any research into Banshee lore?” another, more agitated nod. “I’m going to go out on a limb here and assume you believe the ‘If a Banshee wails for someone’s death then it can’t be avoided?’ rumor?”

“Rumor? Quite a few mythoi have stated much the same.” 

“Right, well quite a few mythoi say Werewolves full shift frequently and walk on humanoid hind legs like some eight-foot-tall dickery.” Lydia’s lips pinched into a frown, “Also, knotting? Not a thing less one of you is full shifted, shame though that is.” Isaac and Vernon spluttered in embarrassment at the sudden fact. “You not responsible for the deaths you scream for, you just announce them. You’re a Medium, and most times - if you hone your abilities enough - you can commute with the dead and feel the death of someone hours before it happens. Might give you enough time to save them, might give you enough time to figure out if they deserve to be saved.” 

Lydia said nothing more though she clearly was thinking over the new revelation thoroughly. It appeased Stiles enough that she moved her gaze to Scott and frowned, clearly not liking something she saw. “Hold your hand out,” he looked warily to his Alpha and did so only after he gave a hesitant nod. “I’m going to draw a drop of blood, something’s wrong with your wolf.” It was said so Peter could tell her to stop if he disapproved, not for Scott’s benefit. 

He knew for a fact that she had gotten Malia to use her claws to pierce the flesh of his finger was just so she could be included, he just wasn’t expecting the reluctant anger that seeped into his veins when she drew the finger to her lips and encased the tip in her mouth. It was unhygienic, it was abnormal, it was - now she was doing the same to him with a pensive furrow to her brow. How she had gotten his finger to bleed he had not seen nor did he care in the face of her tongue curling around his digit and retreating. Peter was not a teenager, nor did he have an uncontrollable sex drive, but her mouth tested that control in ways that threatened to unravel him. 

“Oh,” she breathed, wicked delight and murderous glee permeating her scent like blood and wine. “You’ve had a tail re-entering California, Peter. He’s priming your little wolfling for madness,” she turned to a confused Scott once again, “ have you been taking any new medications, drinking blood, smoking something different?” 

“No?” her brow rose in a challenge at his unsure answer, “I haven’t had to use my inhaler since I turned, I don’t drink blood, and I can’t get high. I was poisoned with wolfsbane once but that was almost a year ago.” he rubbed the back of his neck, somewhat agitated and now knowing why. “I’ve noticed a new smell in the Clinic but Dr. Deaton said it was a new incense to -” realization hit him the moment it hit Peter, the moment it hit them all. “-to calm my wolf. He uses it every day a week before the full moon.” 

Scott was firmly against killing anyone, least of all Deaton, so Peter had Stiles, Malia, and Jackson do a ‘patrol’ around the clinic and his home. Jackon was the one to find the evidence Stiles needed, Malia was the one who brought it back to him, and it was Jackson and Stiles that… dispatched, the good Dr. 

It made page five news, beloved Veterinarian dies of a heart attack in his sleep. It was a surprisingly tame death for a Demon - or of what he expected from a Demon - and had bred a surprising alliance-turned-friendship between Jackson and Stiles. 

Peter was a suspicious man, he rarely trusted anyone, but all that faded away when the two emerged from the forest, naked as blue jays with bloody jaws and adrenaline coursing through their veins a week later. He began to think that he could trust Stiles and cemented the very ideal when his daughter, for the first time in a little over a year, faced no trouble with her control on the night of a full moon. 

They continued to live together - it was easier for her to protect him if she were directly near him - and have meals together - she was a good cook and he was never one to deny quality food - for months. The pack thrived, Malia was able to shift at will and Cora, his niece was able to finally get a good workout group going with most everyone involved. Most of them began their first year in college while others, like Cora and Jackson, remained independently wealthy, passing most of their free time by investing in certain businesses - Cora even started a job as a fitness instructor and started teaching classes at the local gym.

He had a demon for an Emissary and his pack was thriving better than they ever had, even before when his sister was the Alpha and Hale Pack was near forty strong. Stiles, he found, was a quick wit with humor that matched his in intensity. She enjoyed reading - the few times she managed stillness - and sparring, Jackson, Cora, and Erica being her opponent more times than naught. She liked most types of music and enjoyed teasing him by singing along out of key with every song he tuned the radio station to - he had been alarmed and mildly impressed when she even went with the Opera playing over the classical radio station. 

She grew restless easy though, rarely ever slept  _ (‘Don't need it’ she explained irritably, ‘four hours or so every two days is all I need, acclimating to this plane is more difficult than I gave it credit for.’), _ and was an absolute child when it came to curly fries or bacon cheese fries. She killed without remorse - he’d never been so turned on as when she drove her hand up under the Omega’s rib cage and crushed his heart with her hand - and had the shittiest taste for movies and comics. 

She was also kind - surprisingly so given her species and nature - and remained ruthlessly honest - traits he (and his pack) were growing to appreciate. They knew where they stood with her, they knew the extent to which she would go to protect them, and just how brutal she would be if they were injured stupidly. She took to sparring with Peter when their free time extended and scoping out potential betas to assist in the building of his pack. 

He was a suspicious man, but he trusted Stiles to protect and care for him, both as his summoned companion and his friend - gross sentimentality aside. Opposing packs were cut down if they refused to leave and remained hostile, treaties were made with dire consequences should the laws be broken, and Hale pack grew from nine to eighteen. A whole year and his pack had doubled, adding to its already unique ranks a Hellhound, a thunder Kitsune, a human bounty hunter turned Enforcer, two humans, a Chimera who could turn invisible, another werewolf/werejaguar chimera, two werewolves, and a human emissary in training.

A whole year of her rarely ever being injured and decimating his enemies where they stood before the first Angel appeared in an attempt to smite her. He had watched in horror as it pressed its palm to her forehead and blood began pouring from her orifices. The Angel didn’t get to question why it wasn’t smiting her around the fist she’d shoved up from the soft side of his chin and crushed the brain of its vessel. She was gasping when the vessel dropped to the ground and angel wings burned into the ground, then she was ripping the corpse apart, flinging tissue and chunks of flesh here and there, painting her perfect skin in blood red. 

She stopped only when her hair hung limp, soaked with blood, and looked as if she had been dipped front first in a blood pool. Her pitch-black eyes met his from where she had frozen him with her abilities and released him, giving him just enough time to catch her before she fell unconscious. 

In the year he had her at his side she had only ever had to tend to his wounds thrice, each time were ones she had inflicted during their sessions. Never once did he have to tend to her, not until now. Never once did he get the chance to really feel the bond that had formed between them until now, it staggered him how weak she felt. It took all of three seconds of thought before he opened their bond up completely and let her draw on his strength to heal. 

Peter was a suspicious man, but not of her. He trusted her, he  _ liked  _ her. It was hours later when she was cleaned and rest in his arms in his bed that he truly gave himself time to think of her. Her taste in clothes wasn’t completely abhorrent, he could and did trust her, she complimented him in nearly every way, and he did like her. Romantically? Perhaps. Sexually? Her body was alluring of that there was no doubt. Could Demons be monogamous? 

Was that what he wanted? He had used to dream of a partner such as her, one who he could depend on and be depended on in return. One who met him wit for wit, who took his anger and cold fury and fanned it to flames or extinguish it with just a look or a word. He could love her if he didn’t already. 

“ ‘m naked,” she murmured earlier the next morning just as he was stirring awake himself. “ ‘m naked in your bed.” she dug her nose deeper into his chest and inhaled long and hard, “you smell good.” his laughter made his chest rumble against her that turned a tad deeper when she pulled herself flush against him. 

“Be my mate.” he hadn’t meant to blurt it out so childishly. He had imagined using her candles for a candlelit dinner of her favorite dishes that he prepared, perfect suit and maybe even a ring. This though… though wasn’t all that bad of a comparison, he supposes. 

“You really don’t remember your time in hell,” she murmured, chin resting against his chest while she looked up at him. When he rose his brow at her not-answer she rose to her elbows and traced his brow line with her fingertips. “We Princes are given our choice of the souls being tortured in hell, our own personal playthings.” she hesitated, gold eyes glowing impossibly warm as they stared into his sea-blue ones. “You were there maybe two days and were sassing your tormenter, I was bored and you seemed funny. We spent three months getting to know one another. You’d make me laugh, would come up with nicknames for the other Princes or demons that came and went. You tried to leave me twice and I ripped you limb from limb,” he shivered and clutched harder at her hips when she straddled him, pensive expression deepening. 

She wasn’t lying, he shouldn’t have found her penchant for murder and violence so sexy. 

“About a week before you left you told me your plan, that you’d be resurrecting soon, but that you’d found me ‘surprisingly amicable company, for a demon’.” he grinned when she tried to mock his tone. “You asked me to be your mate then,” she took his hand at her hip and drew it under her breast, pressing the palm flat against her ribcage. Her lack of heartbeat had always amused him, but now- “ask me again.” she was about to do something life-changing. 

Peter Hale that was would’ve refused, he would’ve suspected her intentions and would’ve never wanted her to be his mate. Peter Hale now, though…

“Stiles,” he was acutely aware of the way her skin broke out in goose flesh, “Will you be my mate?” 

“Yes.” with her answer came a thud from her ribcage, with her answer the bond connecting them as a summoner and the summoned twined with their pack connection and then was reinforced with the mate bond, connecting them in ways no one would ever be able to break. “My name,” glossy sea blue eyes rose to meet her warm gold ones, both of them breathing heavily as the air around them crackled with energy. “Is Mieczyslawa.”

“Mieczysława,” he breathed then suffocated her with a kiss, firm hands gripping her jaw and the back of her head. He tried, many times, to release her from their summoning contract, only for her to refuse so ardently that he never again tried. 

“I’m not going to Heaven, Peter, and neither are you, this contract… we’ll be together in hell, just as we once were, only you’d be a Prince too.” being with her in death as they were in life? It sounded like Heaven to him. Three months later she became Mrs. Hale, two months more and she was heavily pregnant. Their firstborn son became a Demon/Werewolf hybrid that they lovingly referred to as their little Demon Wolf became one of the most feared and respected Right Hand of Hale pack. 

There’s a tale, passed down from the thriving Hale family, that if one were in desperate need of help one only had to ask for Stiles or Peter and they would appear. Their love story is a fairytale, their ending a new beginning, their story hope for their descendants and a report of amusement to other demons. It was for this that a sullen sixteen-year-old was chanting with tears in his eyes in the forest far from his home, dying even in the skin he was in. 

The runes lit the same moment the teen fell to the forest floor, balling. He had been ruined, fouled by another werewolf of an allied pack, and he could tell no one.

“Hello,” his great-great-grandmother greeted, kneeling before him with a kind, maternal smile. “I know,” she hummed when he launched into her arms, wailing into the night. “Don’t worry, Derek, Peter is taking care of the rest.” The next day word had spread that an entire pack had been decimated per the old treaty that had been signed in blood. What had been taken from Derek had been repaid in flesh and blood and he knew that his great-great-grandmother and grandfather were responsible and he  _ wept _ . 


	3. Queen and Gentry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His life was empty without her, his chest always felt hollow without her. She enraged him like no other and made him feel so fucking vulnerable that he worried she was his weakness. In the same breath when she smiled at him so genuinely it made him feel like he could rock the fucking world. When she had been hurt, however, it made him feel like he was lost at sea in the middle of a typhoon or hurricane. And when he had been too lost in his thoughts it was her gentle calling of ‘Big bad?’ or ‘hey assface!’ that had him returning.
> 
> Oh. Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This'un is a long one! (9.5k words)
> 
> The prompt was ANGST. Most people went with Angst, happy ending. 
> 
> I did not. >:D In FACT, it feels unfinished, it feels like it was cut off - and that is exactly how I wanted to leave it, mwahaha! 
> 
> All angst, no happy ending! Well, happy ish ending, depending on things.

It started with small things; brief touches against his arm that could be mistaken for her trying to shoulder check him, or offering him meals and little desserts that she had made. Then she started to show up at his address -  _ how  _ she had gotten it made him proud and annoyed, it was  _ his _ home dammit - and made sure he came to pack meets. Because  _ she  _ gravitated towards his side during pack meets so did Erica and Vernon until they, too, were scenting him as pack. It was insulting and  _ beautiful _ at first until he began to  _ feel _ the packbonds with them form. Stiles had saved them, they followed her as if she were their alpha, and because she was including him - for whatever reason - he was a part of their small pack. 

Because Peter rarely took anything without giving something - though that something was often in the form of scathing replies, sarcastic wit, and dramatic eyerolls - in return, he made sure to start ‘leaving’ books around on magic for the little Spark to read up on. It went from small things to a very real, very  _ important _ thing the moment she, Erica, and Vernon stood up for him when Scott and Derek found out that he was teaching them how to fight and defend themselves, how to work as a unit. Scott, as expected, was pissed off that they -  _ his _ pack - were doing something that would promote violence behind his back.    
  


Derek was pissed off that his sired beta’s had not asked him to teach them, especially when he had  _ tried _ before. 

“You tried, sourwolf? I’m fairly certain that what you did was literally throw around three betas without giving them an idea of what they were supposed to do and or focus on, and then - when they were hurt, you  _ broke _ their bones to get the healing factor to kick in faster!” Stiles raged, standing in front of the three betas with a glare that was equal to that of an Alpha. “Peter told them how to use their senses, how to get their healing to kick in faster  _ without _ extra pain. He’s been at it longer, he’s been a Beta longer, he  _ knows _ how to teach other Betas to control their shift and find their anchors.” then, with a fury that made her breathtaking, she rounded on Scott. 

  
“And you! You expect everyone to just lay down and  _ not _ cause a fight because you’re a fucking ‘True Alpha’?! You’re still a teenager, Scott, people will see that before they see you as the ‘True Alpha’ you’re trying to keep as a claim. What if another Gerard shows up, Scott, huh? What if he takes Erica and Vernon again, what if they decide that they want to shoot up some of our pack after they agree to a peace treaty? Huh? What then?!” 

“We still have to give them that option for peace, Stiles!” he urged, confused as to hell why she was so adamant on siding with Peter when she normally was on his side with certain arguments. “Gerard was a mistake, but -”

“ _ Allison was the one who shot them full of arrows! _ ” Stiles was a spastic, energetic, and loud girl. Such was why her calm, curt,  _ still  _ fury was so worrying for those in the room. “ _ Allison _ , Scott, and I love her like a sister, but it was  _ Ali  _ who shot them full of arrows, repeatedly, because  _ Gerard _ manipulated her.” 

“Gerard was evil-” Scott tried, angry for her bringing up Allison but also sad because she  _ had _ . 

“There are more people like Gerard than you know, Scott.” and maybe it was because his friend, his sister, was looking at him like he was a moron or a child, but it had Scott raging. 

  
“People like Peter?! He killed people too!” and maybe that wasn’t exactly the right thing to say, because now Derek was edging towards Stiles,  _ choking _ on her anger and wanting her to  _ calm down _ because Erica and Vernon were tensing for a fight behind her. 

  
“ _ Peter killed guilty people who deserved to fucking  _ **_die_ ** _. _ ” Peter had never had anyone he wasn’t openly manipulating angry  _ for _ him. For Stiles to be so on his side, to  _ agree _ with what he had done… “Peter didn’t take a human fucking girl from the middle of a Lacrosse win to beat her senseless so she could be made into a message to the Alpha and her werewolf best friend.” and to that the entire room stiffened.”You knew,” she spat, “You just didn’t want to believe it.” 

“You - you’re lying-” before he could finish the half hearted attempt to regain control of the situation - his mind, honestly - Erica and Vernon both growled and shifted with intent to  _ hurt  _ him. 

“No.” All it took was for Stiles to look at both of them for them to remain where they were and calm down, burning cinnamon cooling down and releasing its grip on the ‘were’s in the room. “Scott, are you ordering us as Alpha to stop these training sessions?” she was furious, but there was a calm acceptance to her that actually scared the ‘were’s. This felt like a charged moment, like whatever Scott said would change  _ everything _ . 

“I -” Scott wanted to say yes, he really did, but he understood the need for everyone to learn how to protect themselves. Ever since that lacrosse game Stiles had quit and gone to some self defense classes that a few of her dad’s colleagues were putting her through. Now she was learning how to fight werewolves from  _ Peter _ and Scott - Scott only saw Peter as using this for an opportunity to turn his friends against him. 

“He’s turning you against me, can’t you see that’s what he’s doing?” He tried again,  _ needing _ his friend, his sister, to see reason. 

“You didn’t answer my question.  _ Is that an order, Alpha McCall? _ ” it was in instances like this that Peter saw how truly remarkable of a wolf she would make. Her fury was calculated and directed with a level of intelligence that would make other Alpha’s blush. She knew  _ just _ what to say to utterly demolish her opponent and she could say it with a ferocity that rivaled a raging Omega. 

“No.” Scott bit out, shoving his hands into his hair to try and relieve the pressure that was building there. 

“Good, then we’re not going to discuss what I do in my free time with pack members  _ you _ neglect.” In a movement that could be taken as a challenge to any other Alpha Stiles spun around, openly rubbed her cheek against Erica’s, then Boyd’s, and finally, with a narrowed glare that  _ dared _ Peter to try and deny her, rubbed the other side of her cheek against his previously scarred one. She smelled of rain when he actually moved his face into the motion, scenting her back despite how stunned he still was. “You are the Alpha, Scotty, but I am the Emissary and this is  _ my _ pack.” 

After that she and Scott got into arguments frequently, most of which devolved into screaming matches that had the other pack members flinching away from the table. Lydia and Allison were, surprisingly enough, on Stiles’s side, despite saying that Scott still had some good points to his arguments. Peter never needed to be dragged to another Pack meet again as he went willingly. 

It was a month later that  _ she _ called a pack meeting, asking for everyone to show up. When everyone - including Chris Argent - was present in the room - including one confused Alan Deaton - Stiles entered the loft smelling of Peppermint and ash. 

“I’m adding one more to our pack.” and, as expected, confusion and alarm broke out. 

“Who?” Chris asked her, drowning out the questions of ‘What have you done’ and ‘what do you mean?’

“Deucalion.” she stayed standing in the doorway, arms crossed, defiant and completely set in her decision despite the two shouts that were immediately aimed at her. Scott being the loudest. “You granted him mercy, but you also made him an Omega. Omega’s go fucking crazy, you really want to deal with a crazy Deucalion?”

“I agreed with her,” Derek told him when he stood by her side, surprising Scott further. “He learned how to fight while he was blind, Scott, he learned how to utilize his senses in a way I’ve never even heard of. Stiles, Erica, Boyd and I already met with him a couple times.” 

“You already met him? You already decided on this without asking me, without-” 

“It’s what I’m doing now, Scott. Pack meet, pack discuss, pack decide. I started checking on him to make sure he wasn’t losing his sanity, that was three months ago.” and Chris, god bless him, was the voice of reason right alongside his daughter and Lydia. 

“Erica, Vernon, you’re okay with him joining the pack?” because he had been the one who had taken them captive and held them captive for months until Stiles had found them. 

“He stopped Kali from torturing us,” Erica announced with a shrug from her spot on the spiral staircase beside Peter. “Honestly I think he’s the only reason I’m alive, Kali was especially pissed off that day. He’s… he’s not the same.” 

“I think it’s because he got his eyesight back,” Boyd agreed, arm wrapped tight around Erica while she sat between his legs on the staircase, just a few steps below Peter. “If he tries anything, well, we’re a large pack, we can take him.” 

“He’s another Alpha!” Scott distressed, “he could just kill me and take over the pack!” Stiles rolled her eyes and looked to Derek, as if asking for him to take over. Peter was too awed at the way Stiles had changed, at the way she seemed to no longer be trying to actively hide her true self from everyone and instead embraced it with conviction that had him  _ hungry _ for her. When Derek put his hands up in a ‘It’s all on you’ motion she sighed heavily and turned her champagne gold eyes on Scott.

“Scott, no offense bud, but  _ I _ could kill you, and take the Alpha spot. You don’t come to training, you don’t try to run with the others on the full moon, and you’re actively denying your wolf’s instincts.” of course he had, he never wanted to be a werewolf! “See, that’s exactly my point!” ah, this was the point where it would divulge into a screaming match. “You don’t want it, never wanted it, so you’re denying it while trying to keep the authority of it! You can’t be an absent leader, Scott!” 

“You don’t know what it’s like!” it was funny how  _ he _ became the flailing ones whereas Mieczyslawa was the calm, collected hurricane she was always meant to be. 

“Scott, you don’t have Asthma anymore, you’re basically always fucking  _ ripped _ , you can literally feel familial bonds, you’ve gained more attention from the female populus in these past two years than you ever had, and you made first line  _ as well as Captain of the Lacrosse team _ !” her hand slapped harshly into her chest and drew a flinch from those that cared about her. “You could still be asthmatic getting chunky with me on fast food and snacks spending every friday night binging video games and sitting on the bench during lacrosse games while we lament about how we wish things were different. You found your anchor, your mom  _ literally _ told you to fucking stick it to someone who could  _ kill her _ because she believed in you. You’re only problems are because you’re denying that wolf side of you that you keep seeing as a monster!” 

“Well why don’t you ask me to bite you then so you can be a wolf!” and there it was, the question Peter had been asking himself ever since she had denied him in the parking garage what felt like an eternity ago. 

“ _ Because it would hurt too fucking much to realize you don’t need me as much as I need you _ .” and that… well, Peter understood that. It brought the whole situation into perspective for him and brought a whole new understanding to her reaction when he had asked her. She didn’t want to be like him, that had been a truth and a lie, because if she turned into a werewolf she would’ve  _ been _ like him. Bondless, alone and on the road to insanity that most likely would’ve resulted in her death. “Pack vote on Deucalion.” amidst the awkward atmosphere the majority vote was for Deucalion joining, Scott was too stunned to put his own vote in, let alone deny said vote. 

Erica and Vernon flanked her when she took her leave, putting all attention on Scott as he stood, flabbergasted, in the same spot he had been in. Few people glanced to Allison, as if to gauge her reaction to hearing that - was it a confession? - declaration from her best friend toward her ex boyfriend. 

“Well, it was about time for that.” Lydia expressed with a dramatic sigh as she pushed away from the table. “It’s not a romantic confession, Scott, so don’t go thinking too highly of yourself. Honestly,” she smacked her lips and eyed the room with a hint of distaste. “I hoped she’s snap sooner or later, called me out at the Homecoming but didn’t care that she was hiding her real personality from everyone.” She sniffed derisively and flicked her hair over her shoulder, glaring at Peter with a tone of acceptance that hadn’t previously been there. “Hm.” and with that high pitched huff of approval and acceptance she sashayed her way out of the room. 

Peter wasn’t sure how he was supposed to actually react to the current scheme of things. Not only had Stiles openly declared that Peter was a part of  _ her  _ pack, but she would also openly fight Scott for his current placement in her scheme of things. Her pack, which consisted of Deucalion, peter, Erica, Vernon, and apparently Lydia. From the look that was shared between Chris and Allison the two were in favor of what Stiles was saying. It was then that Peter made sense of the little touches she made sure to do to him, the way she made meals or gave him little baked goods. How she was always,  _ always  _ trading sneers with him and openly challenging him. The entire time she had been scenting him, considering him pack, showing him he had a place with her. 

He was strangely touched and insulted that a teenage girl thought that she could force a pack bond on him just because she didn’t want to deal with him going omega crazy again. In the same breath he knew that wasn’t why she had done it, she would’ve told him outright if that had been her reasoning, instead she showed up at his house so often that her scent could always be found in some corner of his apartment, left a few of her jackets - there was even a cover she used when she showed up very suddenly declaring that she was going to use his couch to sleep and if he touched her she would wolfsbane mace him. He had been too stunned at her brashness to even react before she was curled up on his couch with a fluffy cover curled around shoulders. 

When he had recovered he had wanted to bang his pots together, toss her off the couch, play the T.V at its loudest volume. Instead he found himself walking softly, barely using the oven, let alone the microwave in case the sound was too loud to wake her up, and checked on her frequently to make sure that she was fine. 

Little tart took that as permission to do it frequently too. Still, through all this he only knew of Stiles being ‘Stiles’ - he didn’t want to make her presence seem permanent in his life by hiring a P.I to find out her real name (since none of her fucking friends knew it,  _ thank you Scott _ ) - and was utterly floored when it was  _ Deucalion  _ who called her true name out in the middle of a sparring practice. 

“You’re doing good, Mieczyslawa, this time focus on the way the air feels against your skin. You’re not a werewolf, but you can  _ feel _ the change, every human can. You just have to attune yourself to it.” she nodded and vanilla sprouted from her in her pleasure at having her true name called so perfectly. “I’ll go slow and progress the more successful you are.” another nod but neither were ignorant of the stares centered on them. Stiles was not a werewolf but she was doing better than Erica and Vernon when it came to the training Deucalion implemented. She was doing so well, in fact, that it often meant she was doing lessons with him on the side, or during breaks in between their training sessions. 

She didn’t dodge the first time Deucalion shoved her though she did follow his movements when he stalked around her. After the first three shoves she managed to dodge or swipe his hand away, then after that she stumbled only twice, managing to keep up pace with him until he started using his werewolf speed. 

“Okay,” she sighed heavily and settled into a stance, captivating them all with her pure ozone that leaked from her. “Deuce, try again.” to his credit he did without hesitation. Where she once fumbled she was now sure in her movements, where she was choppy she was now graceful, and the pace with which she moved had increased until both their limbs were nothing but blurs. “I’m fucking NEO!” she shouted in glee after the session, cackling madly with Erica at her side, questioning just how the fuck she had done that. 

Peter, however, was trying to remember how Deucalion had pronounced her name, tried to form it without being too obvious. He would never admit, even under the threat of torture, that he was jealous that Deucalion knew what her real name was and, from the way they were talking in another language that sounded harsh and beautiful, could also speak whatever language it was she was fluent in. 

“It’s Polish,” Deucalion answered his unasked question when Erica and Vernon left with Stiles hours later. Peter tried not to seem too interested when he looked at Deucalion but felt his eyebrow twitching when the man was wiping his hands on a rag, grinning slightly everytime he glanced at Peter as if he were amused. “Her name and the language.” he wondered how he knew but refused to ask it, he didn’t want him to think that Peter owed him for answering simple questions. If he elected to talk without being asked anything then that was his business, Peter was just enjoying his confusing day. “We looked into the human who taught a sireless Beta how to control himself, though we thought she was a Druid at first.” with a shrug Deucalion tossed the rag on his shoulder and crossed his arms over his chest. “You can imagine our surprise and suspicion when we found she wasn’t a Druid and was purely human.”

Purely human? Yes, that’s what he had thought at first too.

“Then she trespasses onto our territory, charms Ennis, and takes our hostages before they can even be utilized.” yes, he had been shocked all to hell and back when she showed up at the old Hale House with two twitchy Betas and a ghost. The ghost being his niece whom he thought was dead, another one who had been abandoned like he had. She had recently gone back to South America - Beacon Hills was ‘too cold’ for her - but she and Peter kept in touch through Skype and phone calls. 

“Erica says you stopped Kali from torturing them,” to his credit the Alpha sighed heavily and sank into the pillar of the porch. “Why?”

“Because Derek was supposed to kill them, if they perished before they got the chance then that was one less beta who’s abilities he could absorb.” He was honest, at least, so points for him. “Now… now I think it would’ve been a great loss to involve her anymore than she had been.” it most definitely would have been, Stiles had the severity of loyalty that made her put her own life in front of those she cared for. 

Peter didn’t expect  _ him _ to be one of those people, especially since he could fucking  _ heal _ . 

“You stupid, idiot  _ girl! _ ” he panicked and clutched her tighter to his chest while Chris drove them to the hospital. “What gave you the right!? I can heal but you can’t you -” her pinched expression turned wry, even through the pain he was  _ trying _ to drain from her but couldn’t because the little tart was somehow  _ stopping _ him from doing it. “ _ Let me take your pain! _ ” 

“You’re-” she groaned and shut her eyes tight, “So dramatic, it’s just a - just a bullet.” Just a bullet, yeah for  _ him maybe! _ It had been intended for his heart but she had fucking jumped right in front of it and took it instead. He would kill her, he would save her first and then kill her and then bring her back just to kill her  _ again _ for causing this pain in his chest. He hadn’t even wanted her fucking pack bond and now he could feel the pain she was denying him from taking through it  _ and he couldn’t-  _ “Peter, breathe.” and with her calm placations he raged. Her, who was currently bleeding  _ profusely _ into Chris’s back seat, was going to tell  _ him _ to calm down when  _ she _ could be dying!? 

“Fuck you.” he snapped, then - “Let me take your pain damn you!” her brows furrowed even deeper at that, as if she didn’t know why he couldn’t. 

“I’m not - not stopping you from doing it.” and it was hard to tell if she were lying or telling the truth because her hummingbird heartbeat was fucking  _ normal _ and that did absolutely  _ nothing _ for his control. “An-anyway, hunting season, I just, rounded a mend when - someone took a shot.” she grimaced and sank into Peter’s hold. “Didn’t - didn’t-”

“My daughter and Isaac stuck around to try and find the Hunter while Peter and I rushed you to the hospital.” Chris finished when she started coughing, jaw tight every time he looked at her through the rearview mirror. “We were tracking the deer when we came around the cliff face overlooking the city when the shot rang out.” she sagged completely against him and nodded briefly, eyelids lowering slowly as the exhaustion set in. “The hunter used a 30.06 and that’s a common hunting rifle caliber. It’ll all be plausible.” Chris was impressed with her ability to come up with an alibi even through her pain, that didn’t mean he was calm. He didn’t have a werewolf’s sensory amplification but he could  _ smell _ her blood as if it were covering him. The normally fair skinned girl was now sickly pale with sweat making her hair stick to her forehead and her eyes - which were regularly black - now looked sunken. 

“Peter, don’, don’ wolf out, kay?” she breathed, “‘m fine. ‘n don’ wolf out ‘n Scott, either. Chris, don’ le’ em.” she cleared her throat and hissed when Peter jumped out of the car the moment Chris pulled it up in front of the Emergency entrance. “Hi, ‘lissa!” she chirped when several nurses motioned for Peter to put her on a gurney, beaming even though her eyelids were drooping shut again. “Fancy meet’n you here.” 

“I just thought I'd stop by.” Melissa offered through the tears that had started to shed at the sight of Stiles covered in blood. Chris was rushing in the exact moment they wheeled her away, leaving two panicking adults while another nurse tried to get answers from them. He took over easily enough, especially when Peter completely froze at the sight of her blood on his hands. Chris could only assume what was going through his head - he was certain that it had to do something with the darkest part of his memories - and didn’t want to push him too far less he snap and wolf out. 

It was strangely easy to get Peter to one of the showers in an empty room they’d been led to so that he could wash his arms and hands. Nothing could be done for the shirt, but then again Peter would still be able to smell her blood. Erica and Vernon came later, breathing hard and immediately gravitating near Peter. Jeorek came minutes later and was immediately dragged away by Melissa and a doctor. 

Peter was furious, he was sad, he was enraged and he was so fucking confused. He couldn’t take her pain but she wasn’t stopping him from doing it. She had taken a bullet meant for him and he was covered in her fucking  _ life blood _ and he didn’t  _ like _ it. She had placated him even though  _ she _ were in pain and he didn’t fucking know what all of this  _ meant _ . 

He knew his bond that he had with her hurt, that it was aching and dulling the longer time went on - he wasn’t sure if that was because she was dying or because she was sedated, he hoped beyond hope that it was the latter. If it was the former he- well, he wasn’t sure what he would do, or how he would react. He knew, faintly, that his thoughts were calm and hectic, that he had underlying thought processes ranging from several ‘what ifs’ to dozens of ‘but this could happen’, none of it really went focused on for more than a second overtop the large, terrifying thought, of ‘She could die.’

She could die. 

_ She could die. _

She was probably  _ dying _ .

She was - and it was because of him - maybe not directly but indirectly. She, she forced the bond on him without asking! He had asked her if she wanted the bite and now she was taking him down with her and-

“Peter,” he curled his hands into fists and dug them into his abdomen, not wanting to look at them any longer, not when he could still smell the blood that had once coated them. “She’s going to be okay,” he looked up them, glaring at Chris and his calm freaking demeanor that had him wanting to rip his fucking throat out. “The bullet nicked an artery but she’s okay.” 

“It wouldn’t have nicked an artery if she hadn’t jumped in front of me.” he growled, fists pressing tighter into his abdomen so he wouldn’t run them through his hair or into someone elses throat. 

“You’re pack, of course she was going to jump in front of you.” Erica growled, pacing in front of Vernon - who was standing by the wall with his arms crossed across his chest. 

“I never asked to be pack!” 

“You never told her no!” Erica snarled at him, flashing her eyes and challenging him in a way that had his ass slamming right back into his seat before he could flash even a hint of fang. “She claimed you as pack over and over and you ever once told her no!” Peter rose with the calm fury he’d perfected all his life, truly on the edge now that this Beta, this beautifully protective and ignorant beta had tried to challenge him. HIM. 

“I don’t want to be part of her pack.” he didn’t, he really fucking didn’t, not when she could get hurt and die at any fucking point, Spark or no. She could heal, she’d heal faster than a regular human, but she couldn't heal a bullet to the heart or head or throat. She was human and he couldn’t deal - he wouldn’t be able to take it if she died. Not when it made him feel every single one of his pack bonds burning all over again as his family died. As they  _ suffered _ . 

“Then tell her.” Jeorek challenged, arms crossed tightly to prevent himself from reaching for his gun to shoot the bastard that would dare leave his daughter  _ now _ . “You don’t want to be a part of her pack then you tell that to her face and break that bond instead of letting it be drawn out.” how dare them, how dare all of them do this to him, try to keep him in a place he didn’t want to be! 

  
He had stormed out with full intent to come back and tell her that he didn’t want to be a part of her pack. 

He never did. Never went back or went to visit her despite every nerve in his body and every urge of his wolf telling him he  _ needed _ to go see her, to make sure she was okay, to confirm that she was healing. Instead he focused on researching what he could about the hunters that would dare hunt in Argent territory and avoiding the general populous. 

Mieczyslawa, of course, had to take that plan and just fucking  _ wreck _ it. 

“You are the most idiotic mother fucker this side of Beacon hills.” Stiles Stilinski groused, standing in his doorway, looking as emotionally wrecked as she was physically. Damn him he couldn’t actually look at the brace on her arm that kept it slung against her chest. He couldn’t look at the bandages and wound dressing that peaked out from beneath her loose top. “You want to be emotionally stunted for the rest of your life?  _ Fine _ . You tell me right now you want out of the pack and I’ll leave you alone,  _ forever _ .” 

“Just like that?” he snarked, claws coming out to impale the wall of his door, not that she could see it anyway. “After dragging me to pack meets for months and dragging me into your little group of misfits you’ll let me go, just like that?”

“Yes.” damn him he loved that she could tell the truth and lie all with a single word. He loved and hated that her eyes were like gold, burnt and broken but so defiant that it made him hate her all the more. “I won’t force you to be somewhere you don’t want to be, but only if you really don’t want to be there. I’m not going to take half assed excuses or reasons, Peter. You’re a grown ass man, if you give me some bullshit excuse then I’m going to tell you to fuck off until you give me a better one.” who the hell did she think she was. He didn’t  _ need _ to give her a reason or an excuse. If he said he didn’t want to be in her fucking pack then that was all he had to say!

“I don’t,” he growled out, knuckle deep in his drywall. “Want to be,” cinnamon began melting with brown sugar, gold eyes durning to a dark russet brown in her acceptance and grief. “In your pack.” he expected her to fight, was ready for it, but that cinnamon and brown sugar turned too sweet, too rich for him to take too many deep breaths. She stared at him for a moment, then two until he was finally ready to snap at her. 

“ _ Fine _ .” his heart dropped to his stomach when she turned around and marched away, quickened steps doing nothing to take away her scent from his doorway. He hadn’t been able to bask in her scent for a week, hadn’t been able to see her or appreciate the small things about her habits that actually made him yearn for her. Now, with her scent so potent in his doorway, he found he wanted to just stand there, breathe her in even though it was physically painful to do so. Cinnamon and brown sugar, the too sweet warmth that made his throat close up and his eyes burn. The scent that had built and built until it was overpowering her natural scent and leaving him with it saturating the area of his apartment. 

The smell of her heartbreak. 

He didn’t run after her despite every molecule in his body telling him to - if he were being honest it was  _ because _ his body and wolf were telling him to go after her that he fought it so hard. He got three noise complaints that night and, by the morning, had a new living room table ordered to be shipped to him. 

He thought she’d message him at least once within the next week. 

She didn’t. 

He didn’t hear anything until he dragged his ass with the conviction that he  _ didn’t _ care, he was just trying to figure out what his Nephew and true Alpha McCall were planning, to the pack meeting. 

There was no pack meeting, only Derek and - surprisingly enough - Cora were chilling out in Derek’s loft. They seemed just as surprised to see him as he was to see them. Then, then there was anger. Anger from  _ Cora _ . 

  
“Now you show up.” she stalked towards him with a fury that was both impressive and confusing. Why it was directed at him he had no idea. “After a whole month, Uncle Peter, you are  _ just now showing up?!”  _ and then she was punching him right in his solar plexus, catching him off guard with how fast she went from confrontational to physical. 

“Cora, he doesn’t know.” Derek groused, sighing heavily over the dozens of open books laid out on his table. “Stiles isn’t in Beacon Hills.” that, that had taken his breath away far quicker than Cora’s punch had. She wasn’t in beacon hills? Why the fuck wasn’t she in Beacon hills? Where was her father, what was being done, why wasn’t he - why couldn’t he -

Well, he wouldn’t really have to be informed if they weren’t pack, would he? He wouldn’t have been able to feel if she were near, not with the aching chasm that was once the bond between the two of them. Still, he had pack bonds with Erica and Vernon and nothing felt off, they knew where he lived and he hadn’t been told by them that Stiles was gone. He hadn’t seen anything in the news about missing persons and there was no way in hell that Scott wouldn’t be currently lording  _ this _ over him if something had happened to her. Not when all his theories about Peter being the biggest asshole since fisting became a thing were proven true. 

“Where is she?” he didn’t care, he didn’t care  _ he didn’t care _ . 

“France.” Cora bit out, “Chris, Allison, Erica, Vernon, and Isaac all went.  _ You _ would’ve been with her, would’ve  _ known _ , if you hadn’t  _ screwed up somehow!”  _ the rest was far too many expletives about his character, personality, and his lack of dedication to things he was attracted to in Portuguese for him to give much thought to. 

“Deucalion went too, Peter.”  _ that _ stung even though it shouldn’t have. He had told her he didn’t want to be a part of her pack, hadn’t visited her while she was in the hospital, hadn’t reached out to her first. Even so, even despite all that, Deucalion had gone and Peter hadn’t, not even to make sure she was safe, not to look over the betas who had become pack to him without even having meant for them to. 

“When are they due back?” Cora shut her brother up with a glare when he went to answer Peter. 

  
“Why don’t you ask her yourself, Uncle Peter? Or are you scared?” the growl he centered on her was worthy of Alpha status. Peter, of course, did  _ not _ do that. Not until it was nearing the two month mark and the silence of his apartment was overwhelming. No amount of nights out could fill the silence, running never exhausted him as much as he needed so he could just pass out when he went home. Home that was now empty, home that was no longer home. Home with jackets that weren’t his and a cover that no longer smelled like Stiles, a place that no longer had traces of her or pack, a place that suddenly seemed much too big and much too quiet. 

_ ‘You’ve reached the voicemail of ‘Name here’-”  _ he hated that her voice alone made his every limb settle, hated that it filled the ache that had been in his chest. Especially when she was snickering and giggling while trying to remain serious, he could practically see her in front of him making faces while recording the damn voicemail.  _ “If you’ve important business, leave a message, if it’s important call again, hang up, and call again.”  _ so, of course, he did just that, only it wasn’t Stiles that answered. 

“I am unsure who this is, as you’re listed as ‘Big Bad’,” Deucalion rumbled, sounding as if he had just been woken up. “What is it?” Peter hung up. 

Deucalion had answered Stiles’s phone, Deucalion who sounded as if he had been asleep had answered Stiles’s phone. Deucalion who had to be around Stiles for him to be near her phone, asleep, in Paris,  _ together _ . 

His cell phone vibrated in his hand, he actually hesitated to answer it when ‘Little Spark’ flashed across the screen. “Is everything okay in Beacon Hills?” a very groggy Stiles urged, causing his stomach to hollow immediately. She had been around Deucalion, they had to be in the same room, and they were most definitely sleeping together. But were they sleeping together, or  _ sleeping _ together? Why did his wolf lament and his heart ache at the possibility?

“Why are you in France?” he countered, refusing to play to her tune and instead demanding she play to his. He heard the shuffling of covers and the creak of a mattress that was obviously of poor quality, and then her heavy sigh that had his anger rising. 

“Why do you care?” she sounded so tired and defeated that he almost asked if she were okay. Damn the habits he had developed when she had been present in his life, like a leech or a tumor. 

“The Pack meant to be protecting Beacon hills just ups and vanishes without finding suitable replacements? Fairly certain I should be aware of that much, at least.” not the wisest thing to say, considering the fact that she was frustrated with him. 

“We have suitable replacements. Derek, Cora, Scott, my Dad, and the Police are all protecting Beacon hills.” He really should just leave it at that, lest she think he cares more than he actually did. Or showed that he cared as much as he did? He clearly cared for her, even if he didn’t actually want to. “I’m not - is there anything else?” didn’t have any time for him, did she? Not when she was busy with Deucalion and her pack in  _ France _ . 

“When are you coming back?” it was snapped and curt and definitely dangerous in ways that let on more than he had been comfortable with. 

“I don’t know.” she sighed again, “Hopefully before school starts again.” he heard her heartbeat clearer and a muffled ‘Yeah, yeah I know, we’ll be fine. We’ve got time.’ and then another person joined her on the bed, or rejoined her. “Peter, was there something else?” she was dismissing him? As if he didn’t matter?

“Of course,” he purred, “wouldn’t want to interrupt your time with Deucalion.” he heard her intake of breath and felt minute satisfaction with the fact that she seemed so affected by his barb. Then he felt guilt, and not because he was wrong or because he had so obviously hurt Stiles, but because he could feel the protective anger through the bonds he had with Erica and Vernon. 

“Too late,” calm, calculated, and with the force of a fucking freight train. “Goodbye, Peter.” 

He crushed his phone when he heard the dial tone.

He contemplated flying to France just so he could throttle her and promptly decided against it incase she saw it as him going out of some kind of  _ affection _ for her. Still, staying in Beacon Hills was out of the question. He needed to go somewhere, needed to get away from every memory that haunted him and the ghost like laughter that tickled the back of his head. He had a plane ticket to Ohio booked and his bags all packed and ready in under eight hours with only one stop in mind. He just wasn’t expecting Derek and Cora to be skyping Stiles in their dining area. 

“-ay, that’s what the Druid’s here are saying. They’re going to give me a sapling from their Nemeton to take to ours, it should purify whatever dark energies are polluting it and give it enough power to start being able to draw on the currents once again.” she sighed and ran a hand over her face, the black sling contrasting ominously against her skin and tank top she wore. “There’s also another Spark here, they’re apparently common, but not whatever I am. If we find out whatever it is that I am I’ll end up coming back once school is over and spend a couple months learning how to do… whatever it is that I do?”

“Stiles,” Derek began, concern clear in his tone and on his features. “You look like shit. Are you sleeping  _ any _ ?” 

“Uh, I think we all got like four hours last night?” Erica pushed her way into the screen, glaring darkly at the side of Stiles’s face for even  _ trying _ to lie. 

“Stiles slept an hour and has been taking her Adderall left and right like they’re fucking hard candy.” Peter stepped further into the Loft without much thinking about it, his pesky wolf clearly wanted to  _ see  _ Stiles. “Hello asshole.” Erica greeted with a sniff then, with a level of sass Lydia would approve of, flicked her hair over her shoulder and stalked out of the screen’s frame. 

“Yes, well, my shit sleeping habits aside.” Stiles groused, frowning angrily at her arm as she readjusted her sling. “That’s everything that’s happened so far. We’ve got another week or so and then we should be on our way back. I’ll have to plant the new sprout into the current Nemeton and purge whatever is blocking the energy flow before school starts,” she fidgeted a bit with her sling, then glared once Deucalion snapped at her to stop messing with it. In Polish. 

Peter did  _ not _ learn Polish for Stiles, he had learned it so he would know if they were talking about him to his face. It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he could now perfectly pronounce her name. Hearing the two of them bicker at one another in Polish had him wanting to put his two cents in  _ just _ so he could see her reaction.

“Stiles, find you a Euro boyfriend and get fucked.” Derek and Stiles, simultaineuosly, inhaled their drinks and fucking spat them  _ everywhere _ . 

“ _ Cora!” _ they spluttered inbetween hacks, glancing at her in abject horror while Erica cackled like a witch in the background. “Not only is that a fucking awful idea, but I actually have to stay a virgin for the ritual I’ve got to do for the Nemeton Sapling.” not  _ sleeping _ with Deucalion then, interesting - not that he cared either way. “And I’m not going to end up getting anyone in Beacon Hills after either. People aren’t interested in me.” she shuffled a bit in her seat, “None that I’m interested in, anyway.” He almost whined at how sad she sounded and caught himself from correcting her that  _ plenty _ of people found her attractive. Everytime he, Erica, Vernon, and Stiles went out she’d get multiple stares of lust from multiple men. 

“Okay, what about Derek?” 

“I don’t see him like that and he  _ definitely _ doesn’t see me like that, even if my age wasn’t a factor in his decision making.” yes, she and Derek had come to a mutual fondness for one another after she rescued his Betas and, as such, were at a mutual understanding of the other. Cora huffed and crossed her arms. 

“Well, then I’ll find someone from South America. You should date someone, Stiles, get you someone to temper you out or urge you on. You’re fucking amazing.” Peter wondered briefly if Mieczyslawa Stilinski was like a drug to Hale’s. Derek hadn’t liked her at first and neither had Cora, now both were friends and advocates for her. He loved it and hated it, they were his family and yet they were friendly with the one who had manipulated him into being in a packbond with her when he was fine with his solidarity. 

“Am I not an option?” Peter drawled as he rose from his train of thought, having meant it as a teasing remark that came out much too curious for his liking. That had Derek and Cora both turning to look at him despite his attention resting solely in Stiles’s dulled iris’s. 

“You’ve already made your choice clear and I’d rather not hear it again.” his choice? About her? Was he missing something? “Der, Cora, I’m heading off. Take care of one another and please watch out for my dad.” she hedged a moment before murmuring a quick goodbye and ended the call, leaving his niece and nephew to stare at him with a level of interest that had  _ him _ defensive. 

“Do you  _ want _ to be an option for Stiles?” Cora, damn her, inquired with a gleam in her eyes that reminded him far too much of Stiles when she was teasing him. Of course he wanted to be an option, he always wanted to be an option when it counted for things that would give him a leg up in situations. Stiles, however, was like a laser straight through the fog of his bullshit that could cut straight to the heart of things with him. He hated that she had that affect over him, as well as the fact that she seemed to never react the way he wanted her to when  _ he _ was messing with her. 

Still, did he want to be a genuine option for Stiles? His life was empty without her, his chest always felt hollow without her. She enraged him like no other and made him feel so fucking vulnerable that he worried she was his weakness. In the same breath when she smiled at him so genuinely it made him feel like he could rock the fucking world. When she had been hurt, however, it made him feel like he was lost at sea in the middle of a typhoon or hurricane. And when he had been too lost in his thoughts it was her gentle calling of ‘Big bad?’ or ‘hey assface!’ that had him returning.

Oh. Fuck. 

She anchored him, she anchored him and took the foundation of everything he knew and just wrecked it because she was his anchor. 

“Uncle Peter?” She had become his anchor, she had somehow wormed her way into a bond with him and taken his interest in her motives to make him complacent with her plans!  _ The devious little minx! _ She was his anchor, how the fuck - why was  _ she _ his anchor? She was like a fucking hurricane, hardly anything about her was stable like an anchor should be! Why - what- “Uncle Peter!” he snapped his jaw and growled, brought back to reality by Cora standing right in front of him. At some point he had dropped his bags and was now breathing hard, heartbeat thundered through his ears and raising his rage. 

“I’m leaving!” he snarled, grabbed his bags, and fucking  _ ran _ . She was his anchor, Mieczyslawa Stilinski was his anchor and he - 

Loved it. Hated it. Did she know? Had she intentionally -?! 

It had taken him five minutes to get his temper in check and not put his claws through his steering wheel. No, he couldn’t deal with this, he couldn’t - he needed to get away. Time away would help, it’d give him the chance to put his thoughts in order. He needed time away from everything that reminded him of Stiles, he needed time away to try and get her out of his head and to get the festering wound that replaced where her bond once had been healed. Yeah, yeah, he would go to Ohio, he’d take that flight, now he just needed to get there. 

He spent all of a month in Ohio before he could no longer take it. Every brunette he saw made him think it was Stiles, every time he heard the audio of any Marvel movies he immediately expected to hear ten facts about the movie from Stiles. Whenever he heard tinkering laughter, or smelled vanilla, he immediately thought of her and he couldn’t  _ take it _ . His month away forgetting her had been spent in agony remembering every little detail about her. No one had her skin tone, no one looked as good with moles and freckles like she did, no one smelled as honest and sincere as she did. 

No one reminded him completely of Stiles but everyone reminded him of the little things about her. He hated it, he saw her in everyone, almost like a ghost he couldn’t escape. It was why he was surprised all to hell that she greeted him at the airport, pale and with blackened eyes but sporting a smile that was absolutely mischievous. He should’ve been angry at seeing her waiting for him or even joy, anything but the sinking feeling that  _ something _ was wrong, that this wasn’t Stiles. Not  _ his  _ Stiles. 

“Peter,” she purred, eyeing him with a hunger that was not what he was used to associating with Stiles. “welcome back home.” he approached her slowly, suspiciously, and then out of a need to control the situation when her sandalwood and vanilla smelled burt. “I missed you.” that sounded wrong, almost like whatever was in front of her was twisting her around in an attempt to twist  _ him _ . 

“Missed you too.” he drawled, willing to play the game so he could try and catch whatever this was off guard. “When did you get back?” 

“Week and a half ago,” her pout was adorably wrong, whatever this thing is was trying too hard to be her. “I missed you.” she went to hug him when her whole body froze, fury and abject horror clashing like tidal waves.  _ “Not him _ ,” she growled, clearer now than earlier,  _ “Not him you fucking -” _

“Stiles?” her eyes shot up to look at him, one black and broken while the other was her champagne gold. It was like she was frozen in that moment, half her features contorted in fury while the others were contorted in pain and sorrow. Something was possessing her, clearly, and she was fighting it so valiantly but -

_ “Yes _ ,” she drawled, black flashing to bleach white as a single tear fell from her eyes,  _ “but none of my loved ones. _ ” his phone rang the same moment the lights to the entire airport shut off, encasing Stiles and the way black bled into her gold as the last image of her he’d see for a while. 

“What the hell,” Peter ground out as he answered his phone, lights back on and Stiles no where to be seen. “Is going on?”

“I assume you’ve met the Nogitsune, then.” Chris sighed through the phone, “Are you injured?”

“No,” what an insulting thought, “but I do believe that she agreed to a full possession just now.” a very sharp, angry  _ ‘What?’ _ came from the backseat of whatever vehicle Chris was currently driving. “Nogitsune, then we’ll just need darling Alpha Scott McCall to bite her so we can recapture the Fox.” if only it had been that easy. Stiles, possessed or no, was still Stiles in that she took everything they knew and just flipped it right side down. 

“ **_Oh,_ ** ” the Void Stiles cooed, eyeing Peter with hunger  _ and _ distaste.  **_“You’re so lucky, little wolf, you have so much anguish and pain that I’d grow fat if I fed off of you_ ** .” she sighed, wicked gleam in her eyes glittering roughly against the low light in Derek’s loft.  **_“Not my loved ones,”_ ** she mocked, irritation mixing like ash with her scent.

“Which is why you were able to break Noshiko’s tails, but now why you can’t hurt me, Jackson, or the twins.” gold eyes flicked to him at that, surveying his features for some hint of a lie before she broke out in a wide, malicious smile. 

**_“You don’t know. You didn’t leave the pack and Beacon Hills and_ ** **_her,_ ** **_because you didn’t know_ ** !” he hated that whatever he had said was the wrong thing, hated that it brought it such glee.  **_“She was so sure! Beautiful, turgid little pieces to my game. Erica, tell him, tell him what little Stiles told you.”_ ** it was cooed in a faux sexy sneer with hands that were not supposed to be grabbing at her hips the way they were. 

  
“Stiles doesn’t love with just a little of her heart, she loves with everything she is. When she heard the story of how the twins were abused it reminded her too much of when her mother got sick and she vowed to give them a better chance at life, to show them kindness.” Erica began immediately, smile like poison when Void Stiles seemed to deflate with how easy she began spilling the secret. “She sees what she could’ve ended up as in Jackson, alone and trying hard to be noticed, to do everything perfect. She hates that she sees that in him and hates that he hates her, but she still wants to show him that he’s enough.” Void actually looked a little angry at how easily these dark secrets were being exposed, even if the reactions of those around them would have normally satisfied it. “You, she would’ve helped you originally with your plan, Peter. She’s said so multiple times to anyone whose cared to listen to her. Then she fell in love with you, and you told her to fuck off.”

Void seemed energized at his reaction to that particular bit of information. When had she told him of her feelings? When had he told her to fuck of with said feelings? Why did his chest feel like it had dropped into his gut and his heart had stopped dead?

**_“She chose you._ ** ” Void cheesed, “ **_She chose you but you didn’t choose her! Oh! She would’ve went insane before I’d even gotten a hold of her if she didn’t have her_ ** **_pack_ ** **_.”_ ** disgust was in its tone even as its eyes slipped to the doorway and it began grinning awfully when Noshiko and her daughter appeared.  **_“Now it’s a party! Tell them, Noshiko, how you summoned me and then betrayed me, tell them how this was the necessary outcome!_ ** ” it threw her arms wide in indication of the scene, it was then that Derek and Scott struck, resulting in Derek being thrown into a pillar and Scott latching onto his friends arm with his teeth. 

The oni appeared the moment Stiles’s skin dried up and cracked, advancing immediately on the downed girl before the Nogitsune could leave her. 

“No!” Peter roared, launching himself at one of them to buy her time. He didn’t think to do so he just naturally threw himself in front of her, threw himself at the danger so he could give her time. He couldn’t think about her confession, nor his denial of it, nor why he felt so fucking hollow. Chris and Deucalion immediately took up arms to assist while the twins - startled as they were - tried to launch themselves into the foray, slivers of pack bonds shimmering in their chests that felt so sweet they  _ ached _ . 

Try as they might two Oni broke through just in time to place its hand into a fist by her face, catching the escaping Nogitsune Firefly. One Oni stayed behind as the rest converged into one to check Stiles, even as her skin began falling away like a clay outer layer to show a pink skinned Stiles with frazzled hair and wide, tired gold eyes. 

Unlike the rest, however, it drew its knife down the length of Stiles’s bitten arm and promptly disappeared, leaving Stiles to fall to the ground and break the rest of the clay that had been around her body - including the mark that  _ used _ to be on her arm. Scott’s bite, too, was gone, with no blood as evidence that it had ever been there in the first place. 

“Stiles!” Jeorek cried, clutching his daughter to his lap so he could search for a pulse and relaxing only when he found one. “C’mon baby girl, wake up.” he pleaded, tapping his fingers against her cheek a few times to bring the light back to her wide open eyes. It didn’t sit right with Peter, seeing her looking up with dead eyes as if was a foreshadow into her future. He didn’t care that he was projecting his turbulent feelings to those around him, didn’t care that he knew this feeling as the panic and desperation he felt when his family had burned, knowing he felt no familial ties to the spark. 

“H-hey pop,” she greeted, voice raw and barely above a whisper.


	4. Of Rain and Confessions!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When she pulled out of the parking garage Derek had converted the basement floor too the pitter-patter of rain greeted him. It wasn’t a full-on storm, no wind was blowing the trees in wild abandon and no thunder was rocking the heavens. No, the clouds in the sky were a dull grey and the rain came down in fat dollops with the briefest flicker of lightning glistening off the raindrops like diamonds. It reflected her calm fury so well he faintly wondered if she were responsible for it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt was Rain! 
> 
> Enjoy >:D

“That’s it.” came the cold, calm exclamation from the young woman brewing in her own fury. Peter was surprised that the pack had let her last as long as she had been without anyone asking her what was wrong - then again her gaze had centered mostly on him so of course they didn’t ask. “Derek, postpone the rest of the meeting.” bold little thing she was, though she was allowed such a reaction. Being a pack’s Emissary had special privileges, the fact that she had come back to Beacon Hills before she could be an official FBI Agent had also granted her certain privileges. **  
**

No longer was she an ADD spaz kid wonder with too bright brains and a loyalty that defied death for those she loved and cared for. No, Stiles Stilinski had gone away a teenager and had come back a weapon. She was toned muscle hidden deceptively with her plaids - though they were now women’s plaids and fit her better, not men’s as she had once worn - and had a grace in her movements that only came from someone who knew they could hold their own, no matter the threat they came across. 

She had always been his favorite human, now she was even more of a wonder he wanted to explore. 

He just wasn’t expecting the tart to march up to his spot on the staircase and drag him from it with a strength he had not been expecting. “You’re coming with me,” was the only explanation he was granted as he was led out of the apartment complex. Truthfully he wanted to snap at her and belittle her so she’d leave him alone, more than that he didn’t want to be around his nephew and the pack he was part of/not part of. “Get in.” 

He didn’t snark her as he normally would, didn’t remark that he sure as shit did not want to be trapped in the tiny confines of her jeep with her burning cinnamon fury that was mounting by the moment. No, all Peter Hale did was get in the passenger seat out of mild curiosity and wry contempt. 

When she pulled out of the parking garage Derek had converted the basement floor too the pitter-patter of rain greeted him. It wasn’t a full-on storm, no wind was blowing the trees in wild abandon and no thunder was rocking the heavens. No, the clouds in the sky were a dull grey and the rain came down in fat dollops with the briefest flicker of lightning glistening off the raindrops like diamonds. It reflected her calm fury so well he faintly wondered if she were responsible for it. 

He had thought she were a witchling or Spark so long ago only to be wrong, Stiles Stilinski was completely human. The weather, nature, hell magic even responded to her in ways that made it seem like she had an affinity for them. She drew him in too, just as effortlessly as the rest of the world was drawn to her. 

The only reassurance he had was that she seemed just as attuned to him as he was to her. The relationship that had sprouted between them had been strange and completely uncommon, relying on mostly snark and defensive barriers consisting of disappointment that neither was what they desired the other to be. Then the Ghost Riders had happened and something had changed. The strained bond he had with her grew stronger than any of the others he had, she saw in him something that had urged her camaraderie. 

He had made her push him through the portal, knowing full well it would be painful and would most likely result in his death, but she had surprised him more when she sent him through with a chaste kiss. He had known that Stiles was important to the pack even if they themselves didn’t, it still amazed him how much of a difference she actually made. 

Not only was she Malia’s Anchor, but she was the anchor for Erica, Boyd, she was the driving force of plan-making and willingness to look at every aspect - _‘Your plan is to rescue Stiles so she can come up with a plan?’_. Perhaps the most heartbreaking was seeing her father, the one she loved so unconditionally, be so inherently happy without her and the fake specter that was his wife. He had been forgotten too, but her being forgotten infuriated him like no other. 

When she graduated he had her Jeep repaired without ever telling her who was responsible, that way she could have her beloved companion and have absolutely no reason to stay. He kept tabs on her, of course, and felt a strange sense of pride every time he saw her accomplishments. 

Then Scott, True Alpha McCall called every former pack member and told them they needed to reform, that the Ghost riders were back. Of course everyone returned, the Ghost Riders were too great a threat to ignore. 

He has a video somewhere in his suite of Stiles absolutely fucking wrecking Scott when he admitted that he had jumped the gun and it wasn’t the Ghost Riders but instead a Headless Horseman. That was when he had first noticed how different she was, hard not to when she’s literally shoulder tossing a werewolf that’s at least six inches taller than her. Stiles was no longer the skinny teen who had brains she couldn’t put into thought, she was now a twenty-something young woman with a body trained for confrontation.

The fact that everyone ended up staying in Beacon Hills is part of the reason why he was so frustrated and annoyed lately. Everyone was changed and yet they were pretty much the same. All aside from himself, Lydia Martin, and Stiles. 

He was brought out of his reverie by Stiles opening her door and sliding out of the jeep without a word. They were at the Preserve and heading for a popular hiking path but…

He followed after her, curious and annoyed. She was going to get sick, walking about in the rain - refreshing though it was - and he couldn’t stand the smell of a sick human. 

“Shift.” and now he was side-eyeing her, curious how much she truly knew and unwilling to give an inch if she didn’t already know everything. “Peter,” his defenses broke down with the compassion in her tone, with the way her scent - even in this downpour - was steady in its vanilla and honey. “I can run with you like this, but your wolf is anxious. Just shift, please.” 

“You going to watch me undress then, sweetheart?” not that he wouldn’t mind, definitely not, but that would be heading in a direction their current relationship hadn’t gone in. To his delight she simply raised her brow at him and began putting her hair up in a ponytail. 

“Since when have you ever been shy, Peter? Get naked or shred your clothes.” and then she burst forward, charging through the brush with a wicked gleam in her eye that challenged and enticed him all at the same time. Gods, but he did adore her, especially when she knew just what he and his wolf were needing. He barely shucked his pants off in time before his full shit hit him and he was chasing after her in a flurry of soaked leaves and wet underbrush. 

He howled the moment he caught sight of her, ethereal white fair skin flickering through the soaked dark material of her shirt and hair, then howled once more when she threw her head back and let out a loud laugh he felt in his bones. They ran together, side by side, slowing down and pushing forward, teasing and relaxing in ways that only made sense to them. Stiles had always been an important member to the wolves, if not the pack itself, but it was moments like these that made her impossibly invaluable to him. 

They ran for an hour until she could run no more and collapsed against a tree trunk, pants soaking into the muddy ground. 

“You know, Peter,” he tried not to think of how breathless and relaxed she sounded as he zipped his pants back up from behind a tree a little ways away. “I never did get to thank you for repairing Roscoe instead of just buying a completely similar car.” there she was, shocking him still again. 

“You knew it was me?” he tried to distract himself with re-buckling his belt instead of the hummingbird heartbeat. 

“Of course I did, just like how I knew you were the one telling me to get out of Beacon Hills.” she sighed and when he turned had her head tilted back against the tree trunk with her eyes closed, letting some of the raindrops filters in from the canopy above them drop onto her face. “Some,” he was not paying acute attention to the way her throat looked wet with the rain, slick strands of hair and the beautiful kisses of moles decorating her flesh. No, Peter was paying attention to how kissable she looked, how in tune with her surroundings and how… how at peace she seemed with him being near her, like this. “Some would say that it was a courting gift, if people still did such a thing.” 

“You’re worth more than the repair bill I got for it.” it was this murmur of admission that had her lashes parting to strike him with her champagne eyes. In truth, it startled him how well and sincere it had come out, yet when he found himself looking at the woman before him he found he didn’t care. “Using money as a courting gift is cheap anyway.” a test then, to see if she was as sincere about furthering this as he was. 

“It wasn’t the money you spent,” it didn’t seem possible that the forest could become so quiet, “it was the sentiment behind it. You didn’t just give me a car back, you gave me back something I loved.” he watched as she lowered one bent leg to the forest floor, still assessing him the way he was assessing her. “If you were to give me a courting gift I’d tell you to not bother.” before he could be hurt, before he could get infuriated she floored him. “ ‘cause I’ve been yours since I was seventeen.” 

“What?” she rolled her eyes and stood, approaching him much like she had earlier. 

“I’ve waited years for you, Peter Hale.” his heart soared, his gut hardened and rolled, he was pretty sure he was both freezing and having a hot flash, and then his nerves sang the moment her cold, plush lips pressed firm against his. It didn’t require thought when he wound his arms around her waist and pulled her against his chest, nor when he kissed her back and let go of every reason why they shouldn’t. She had just admitted interest in him, interest in something serious and long-lasting - and gods if that didn’t make him love her more. 

“That wasn’t exactly a declaration of love,” he sniffed dramatically, watching in admiration as a drop of rain fell down the bridge of her nose and trail down her jaw. “But it’ll do, I suppose.” her smile was like watching a sunrise after a stormy night, slow and beautiful and breathtaking. Their next kiss was slow and sweet and everything he’d rarely gotten in life, most importantly of all it was a memory he’d hold close to his heart for years to come. 

Who would’ve thought that rain could bring such clarity?


End file.
